Lock and Key
by t.j.guard
Summary: A revisitation of some of the character concepts in my Compass series, but with a completely different endgame. Picks up at the very end of National Treasure: Book of Secrets and reveals some of the secrets of the girl called Jacqueline by the creators, and the series of events in which she comes to work with Riley and Ben. And what face from the past has anything to do with this?
1. Chapter 1

Lock and Key

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure.

A/N: Revisiting the idea of Ian's sister and what stemmed from it, but hopefully better. Most likely different. And I finally found the name of the girl in the scene I was basing this off of.  
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Chapter One

"You're him. Riley Poole. I recognize you from your book. Can you sign it?" a voice asked. Riley dropped his bag of stuff and smiled at the dirty-blonde-haired girl in the tan jacket. As happy as he was that she knew his name, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what she was doing talking to him.

"Uh, yeah," he replied. "Sure. Wanna walk? I don't have a pen, so I have to..."

"Sure, it's fine." She pulled a pen out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him so he could sign her copy of the book. Then they walked side by side amid the crowd of faces. His elation was soaring through the roof.

"So, what're you doing here?"

"Can't I have fun, coming here, seeing a place that's been in the news?" she said with a shrug.

"No, it's just, I have no idea who you are, and people appearing out of nowhere make me sort of antsy."

"You wanna know my name, don't you?"

"It'd be nice."

"Jackie Jones."

"Nice to meet you, Jackie." He squinted, studying her eyes for a moment, and then asked. "Are you wearing contacts?"

"No."

"Just looks like you are a little bit."

"You'd be surprised how much I get that."

Riley chuckled and looked over several shoulders at Ben and Abigail. Jackie followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "They're back together again," he said.

"She looks like a Fury," she whispered.

"What do you have against blondes?"

"Nothing. I can just tell when a person is hell to be around, let alone live with."

"Oookay. Guess you don't like Abby, then."

"She's not making the best first impression."

"Don't tell Ben that."

"I won't hurt his precious girlfriend's feelings. Don't worry." Riley nodded and swallowed, and Jackie returned her attention to him.

"Where're you from?" Riley asked.

"Boston."

"Don't tell Ben about that, either, because he'd going to give you some really long speech about how people there did something in history and had fun."

Jackie smirked. "My brother would probably do the same thing."

"You have a brother?"

"Yeah, but I'm used to him."

"What's his name?"

"Ian."

"Huh?"

"There are a lot of Ians, Riley. What were you expecting?"

Riley shrugged. "I dunno. Dakota or something."

"Things are not always as they seem." Jackie glanced down at her purse as her phone vibrated. "Excuse me, I have to take this," she said and walked off to the very fringes of the throngs of peope. She threw a look over her shoulder at Riley, making sure he was out of earshot, and answered her phone. "What?" she snapped.

"Who is this?" the voice on the other end replied. "Why do you-"

"Shh. They can't know, and neither can anyone listening in. You know as well as I that I needed to disappear. Tell me why you're calling me in the middle of something so I can get back to talking to a cute guy."

"Don't think you can."

"What happened?" She lowered her voice, certain she'd lose control unless she took the utmost caution.

"It's your brother. He called from prison. A couple guys keep roughing him up, he said, and they got to him this time, too. They kept talking about...you know, ole Billy." William, she thought.

"Why do they want him so much?"

"I dunno. Apparently he couldn't ask. The guards had to take him to the prison hospital, with broken bones."

"Roughing him up? Sounds like downright targeting him for assault."

"That's what Sadusky thinks, too."

"What?"

"After your brother called, Sadusky phoned, said he wanted to ask you a couple questions to see if he could figure out if these thugs are working for somebody like their theory goes."

"When does he want me there?"

"ASAP."

"Okay, I'm on my way." Jackie hung up and walked back toward Riley. "I really need to go, but I'm in the phone book."

"You mean I can call you?" Riley asked.

"Absolutely. In fact, it's encouraged, but not past midnight, since odds are I'll be passed out asleep."

"Okay."

Jackie smiled, nodded, and walked toward the parking lot, realizing her phone was in her hand and returning it to her purse. Once in her car, she took a deep breath, adjusted her mirror, and said, "Cheerio."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Tanya parked in front of the Hoover building, exchanged a few brief words with the man at the door, and was escorted into the building and straight to Sadusky's office. By the looks of things, she could tell he'd jacked himself up on coffee. "You wanted to see me?" she asked, seeing no point in the American accent.

"Your brother got beat up today in prison," Sadusky replied.

"I've heard."

"I've got guys interviewing the prisoners right now, trying to get them to talk about why they did it, but Ian told me you might know something about what they said about someone called Ole Billy."

"William."

"Any idea on a last name?"

She looked over her shoulder at the other man, who stood in front of the door, and then she stepped forward, toward Sadusky's desk and his current cup of coffee. "Howe," she whispered. "What did the thugs tell your blokes?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot."

"Let me hear them. They might be talking in code. I tend to be relatively decent at those sorts of things."

"Don't you want to-"

"Let me hear the thugs talk to each other."

Sadusky nodded, stood, picked up his cup of coffee, and walked to the door. Tanya followed, throwing another glance at the agent who led her to Sadusky in the first place. They walked down the hall, almost single file, to a room full of computer monitors displaying two men in orange jumpsuits, seated in different rooms, staring at the table or at the wall. "Let 'em talk to each other, in one of the interrogation rooms," Sadusky said. One agent nodded, and within moments, he was seen on a screen leading one of the prisoners into the other's chamber. The jumpsuits sat across the table from each other, and the shouting match began.

"You talked," the prisoner on the left snapped. He had a slight accent. Cockney? Tanya wondered. "You told the feds everything, you son of a bitch! Because of you, he's gonna kill us both! We didn't even get what he wanted out of that cocksucker!"

"You think it's my fault?" the other replied. He also had a bit of an accent, but he was much more American-sounding. "You're the one that decided to punch the guy out in the first place!"

Tanya listened to the argument play out, every now and again closing her eyes and focusing on the way they argued. So they were working for someone, and Ian was the target, though she couldn't be sure what they wanted from him. They continued mentioning Ole Billy-William Howe, she corrected in her mind-but they wouldn't say what the Howes had that these men and their employer wanted. There were several mentions to said employer, not by name, but merely as him or he, or even, "The boss." Tanya wanted to ask for employment records, but she knew they wouldn't be on the official books for anyone.

The only person who would know of anything that William Howe might've had, besides Ian and herself, lived in England, a phone call and a long-distance flight away. But somehow the pieces clicked together perfectly. She turned back to Sadusky and said, "Now I'd like to see my brother."

NTNT

Tanya walked into the prison infirmary. Ian lay on the second bed from the door. There were bandages around his ribcage, and his arm was in a cast. His ankle was wrapped in bandages.

"Hey, midget."

"You look reasonably well," she said. He smirked. "Did you recognize anything they said, besides..."

"Their nameless boss," he replied. "They kept calling him, well, he, the few times he was mentioned at all."

"Any clue as to what they wanted?"

"Just that I supposedly knew where it was."

Tanya nodded. "When Powell said you had broken bones, I suspected that you were pretty much shattered and needed to be put back together, but it looks like you came out of it well."

"I seem to have, but I'll be here a few days. Safest place in a prison, at any rate."

"Get well. Don't worry about anything else."

"I will," Ian whispered. "You be careful, too."

Tanya nodded. "I will."

"You should go. It's late, and it looks like you have a party to get back to."

"I'm not going back there."

Ian nodded, and his gaze drifted to the wall and fell out of focus. "I'll see if I can write you. If you don't hear from me, then I can't."

"Alright. I'm a phone call away, whenever you get the chance." Ian looked back at her, smiled, and nodded. "Get your arse healed up and out of that bed, alright? That's your new goal."

"Got it."

"Then I best be off. You need your rest." She whispered, "Night," and she turned and walked out of the room.

NTNT

Tanya walked into the small apartment (small compared to the Howe home back in London), kicked off her shoes, and shimmied out of her dress and into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. A quick check of the kitchen clock told her it wasn't yet midnight. She flopped onto the sofa, put her feet up on the coffee table, and began channel surfing.

After settling on a show about Riley Poole's book, she walked into the kitchen area, put a kettle on the stove, and opened a package of tea bags. American tea wasn't as good as the stuff from back home, but it was passable. She leaned against the counter and let out a breath, trying to process everything that had happened. Her brother had been beaten for an obscure reason, by thugs working for some faceless man, most likely the one from London.

She steered her thoughts away from him as swiftly as possible. He was on the other side of the pond and she was independent in every way that mattered. She didn't need to worry about him unless it really was him behind the attack on her brother. _Damn catch-twenty-two._

The kettle hissed, and she poured herself a mug of boiling water and dipped a teabag into it. She'd just set it down to cool as an historian came onto the screen and began talking about how the Knights Templar hid the treasure and all their clues and what they meant. Old news, she thought. Old, old, old news.

Steam stopped curling up from her teacup in thick whisps, and she picked it up and sipped it. The tea was still warm, just the way she liked it, and finally, just as the historian finished, she walked back into the main room, settled back into the sofa, and set the cup down on the table. Some museum bigwig was talking about a few of the artifacts from the treasure, followed by some conspiracy nutjob adding his two cents on a chapter about aliens, Roswell, and related government cover-ups and then went on about some other nonsense about Area Fifty-One and the Bermuda Triangle. None of it mattered to her mental investigation into her brother's beating.

Something, perhaps in the tea, brought her mind to life, and she picked her cell phone up off the arm of the sofa and dialled a number.

"I thought you went to sleep already," Sadusky said. "It's midnight already. Pretty much tomorrow."

"I need to set up an appointment to talk about my brother's case."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Tanya did a final accent check before fully becoming Jackie Jones again. She walked out of the apartment, pocketed her keys, and checked both directions of the hallway before proceeding down to the parking lot. Once inside her car, she checked the glovebox to find her copy of Riley's book, registration of her car with Jacuqeline Jones on it, and other items. I've gotta clean this out, she thought.

Then she pulled out. Her first stop was to pick up a job application, keeping with the charade of middle-class Jackie Jones, who just got fired. With the paper safely in the passenger seat, along with her purse, she continued on with her errands: mail, mostly junk, and a couple more applications for various jobs, and finally, to the Hoover Building. She was greeted by the same agent who greeted her the previous night and led straight to Sadusky's office.

The agent looked more haggard than the previous night. Must've been working straight through, which would explain his recent coffee habit. "What can I do for you?" he asked, leaning back and regarding her quietly.

She looked back, to notice that they were alone in the office. "Who stole the Declaration of Independence, and on what charges is my brother being held?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"Who stole the Declaration? Ben Gates, despite the lack of evidence because he's that good. What charges? Kidnapping, attempted murder, and trespassing on government property. Should be released in a year or so."

"Who did he kidnap? Who did he try to kill? Where did he trespass?"

"In order, Abigail Chase and Patrick Gates; Benjamin Gates, Riley Poole, Chase again; the clock tower in Philadelphia, Trinity Church, National Archives, and others. Why do you ask?"

"Because this is starting to read like the epic hunt for the Templar Treasure undertaken by Ben Gates himself, published in sixteen different London Times articles. I read every. Single. One."

"Where are you going with this?"

"This came to me in the middle of the night last night. I want to know what legitimate reason you have for holding my brother and commending Gates, when they've both done the same things."

"You'd make a good defense attourney."

"Oh, please. The reputation would be the death of me."

"And anyway, what does this have to do with your brother's beating?"

Tanya shrugged. "Maybe nothing, maybe everything. If you tell me about the case, I can figure it out."

"There's not much to tell."

"Maybe, maybe not." She took a seat across his desk. "Where do you want to start?"

"You're serious about this."

"I want to see what useful bits I can glean from the case. It helps if I know as much about it as possible."

"And you think maybe this will help you help us figure out who would want your brother beaten to a pulp."

"It'll help me with something, but to be honest, what spurred this on was curiosity."

"Curiosity, huh? Usually the curious can just pick up a newspaper, read the headline, and go on with their lives."

"I have a personal interest in this. After all, my brother's in prison, and if recent events are any indication, it's not exactly...safe. Please understand, if my brother did commit a crime, I want for him to pay his debt to society and move on with his life, but he's still my brother."

"I understand. So, you want to know about your brother's case, huh?"

Tanya's mouth curled into a smile.

NTNT

Riley cracked open his computer and booted it up. "Alright, Ben, aside from the fact that I keep thinking about a perfect stranger and thus need help, tell me what I need to find," he said.

Ben walked from the counter next to the fridge to the kitchen table, two glasses of lemonade in his hands. He put one on the table next to Riley's computer and then sat down across from his friend. "Riley, close the computer for a second."

Riley looked up. Ben was staring at him in that earnest fashion that indicated only one thing: he wanted Riley to do something incredibly stupid, and that usually led to all kinds of shit going down. "Let me guess. We're gonna short-sheet the Pope's bed."

"Maybe."

"Break into the Vatican and steal the Shroud of Turin?"

"Well, I don't know about that, either."

"Okay, so, what are we going to do?"

"Go back to all that research you did for your book."

"You...you read it?"

"Finally had the time."

"Alright, which theory-which-is-actually-true do you want me to find proof for?"

"Try...the President's Book of Secrets."

"What about it? That book has everything. I'd shoot a guy to read that thing cover to cover."

Ben looked over both shoulders, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "I've got a special commission. Remember when you asked what was on Page Forty-Seven?"

Riley's eyes widened. "Is the President gonna let you go through with this?"

"I have his support. I'll have to run this by him, but I think he'll go for it, and I wanted you to know first."

"Me? You...you..."

"But you'll probably have to refresh your memory first."

Riley's hands started to shake, and he got up from the table and began rummaging around for a paper bag. Once he found it, he began to breathe into and out of it. He backed up toward the table, one hand extended behind him to keep him from bumping into it. He sank back into the chair, set the bag on the table, and looked up at Ben. "Are you shitting me?"

Ben shook his head. "You know I can't bluff."

"You're serious. You're seriously serious. You want me to help you puzzle out Page Forty-Seven. THE Page Forty-Seven, of the President's Book of Secrets." Ben nodded. Riley reached for the bag again, but his body failed him before he could get to it. He fell out of the chair, his hand sliding off the table, and collapsed onto the floor.

Ben stood and stared at the place where his friend had fallen. "Riley?" he asked, shaking the younger man's shoulder. Riley failed to respond for another minute, and then he groaned and pushed himself onto his elbows.

"How did I get here?" he asked, barely intelligible. "Last thing I remember is you telling me you want me to work the Page Forty-Seven case once you run it by the President."

"That's pretty much it, yeah."

"Excuse me," Riley whispered. With some help, he stood. After a moment to test his legs, he walked out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After pacing about in his apartment and shaking his hands out to work off the energetic feeling he had after learning that he could potentially be working close to the Book of Secrets, he picked up the local phone book and looked for Jackie Jones' number. Then he called.

"Hello?" she asked.

"It's me, Riley," he replied. "I think, if everything goes right for the next few days, I'll get to be in close contact with the President's Book of Secrets."

"That super-secret book that nobody's supposed to know even exists?"

"The very same."

"Is this a big break for you? Will it give you more material for another book?"

"That's just it. I won't be able to publish anything in the Book of Secrets. That's the whole point of the book in the first place, but I'm a conspiracy nut. This is huge for me. The Book of Secrets, and for the second time in my life, I'll be in close contact with it."

"Ri? Can I call you that? Do you need a paper bag?"

She called me Ri, he thought. The one girl who actually liked me. "Tried that. Passed out. I can't believe this could actually be happening."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Pacing. Too excited to do much else."

"Looks like your luck's on the up and up. You're getting the girl, that's for sure."

"You like me?"

"Of course I do."

"Uh, thanks, I think." Jackie laughed on the other end of the line. "Anyway, if we like each other, maybe you can do dinner this Saturday?"

"You asking me out?"

"Yes, yes I am. I am asking you out."

"Oh. Well, Saturday, yeah. I'm free. Sounds good."

"How's six?"

"Perfect." A pause. "I've got a call on my cell." Another pause. "Can you hold for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure." Riley sank onto the sofa and crossed his legs at the ankles. One elbow rested on the headrest, and he leaned against one armrest.

NTNT

Tanya put the apartment phone down and answered her cell phone. "Hello?" she asked.

"Miss Howe, it's Sadusky. I've got something weird I want you to check out."

"Define weird."

"We checked out the prisoners that started punching out your brother."

"Yes?"

"Guess what. There's no prison records on 'em."

"They were planted?"

"That's the theory."

"Still any word on who they work for?"

"Not yet, but I think we can crack 'em."

"What are their real names? I think I can find something that way."

"I've got Rich McCaffrey and Duncan Kelley. I have employment records on Kelley. On paper, he's-"

"The groundskeeper," she whispered. "That's the link. I know who the mastermind is, and I know he's not going to stop. He's never going to stop. Whatever he wants, he'll kill us for."

"So you're thinking of the same person I am."

Tanya leaned against the wall, an arm wrapped around her abdomen. "What do we do?" she whispered. "He can't know I'm the one that's asking you these questions and following the case as closely as I did Ian's." She took a shaky breath.

"It's okay. Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you." She swallowed and stood erect. "I've got to go. I have another call to get back to. Thanks for all your hard work."

"Not a problem, Miss Howe."

Tanya hung up her cell and returned to the apartment's line, and Jackie Jones' identity, to flesh out her Saturday night plans with Riley Poole.

NTNT

Ian sighed. The beating and his subsequent hospitalization had taken him out of the prison routine that made his life manageable for the past five years, and that meant his mind had nothing to do but dwell.

He took a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. Five years. Five years of the monotony of prison life that had kept him sane, and now he was out of it, and the only thing he could think about was Shaw.

He closed his eyes to the vision of Shaw falling into the tunnel, never to be seen or heard of again. Dead. And all he'd done was call his name once and then urge them on in some stupid bid to keep a hold of his sense of purpose, even a deluded one.

Gates, he thought. Because of Gates, he lost Shaw, his assets, and five years of his life and counting. His sister had to go into hiding and could only contact him through Sadusky, one of a very few who knew her identity. His other employees had to hide, as well. His only family was either dead or in hiding, and it was all Gates' fault, and Gates not only got away with that, but he got to kidnap the President of the United States and get away with that too.

It didn't matter what Gates said about equipment and safety, not to Ian, not when the worst thing he did was lead Shaw to his death, all for the purpose. Shaw was the only one outside of Tanya who truly understood Ian's need for purpose, and he was dead. He wasn't sure who to hate more, himself or Gates, himself for going along with it, Gates for having the idea in the first place.

That damned treasure. That damned shaft. One wrong step and Shaw was gone forever. The old man was right. Two hundred years of termite damage and rot. Should've listened.

Ian shook his head and began to take stock, surprised that he felt nothing. When he watched Shaw fall, and every time he dreamed the scene since, he wished he'd jumped and died with him, but he was too proud to do so, and he'd never really believed in suicide. He believed in surviving and turning the tables, serving his revenge frozen. At that moment, in that bed, nursing wounds from what looked on the surface to be a random jailhouse attack, he doubted he even had it in him to serve revenge at all, at least for Gates. Maybe this was one of those times when it was best to start over.

He opened his eyes again, blinked a couple times at whatever sleep had threatened to form, and asked that the nearest agent send for Sadusky.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Ben had just marked a page in Riley's book with a sticky note so he could refer to it later and moved to turn off the desk lamp and plunge his study into darkness when his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and answered with, "What did I do this time? Steal the Washington Monument?"

"Very funny," Sadusky replied. "Ian asked that you come by and visit him."

"In prison?"

"More like in the prison infirmary, but yeah."

"Infirmary?"

"It's prison, Ben. People get beat up."

"He must be doing okay, since he's talking to you."

"Couple fractured ribs, sprained ankle, broken arm. He'll live. He still wants to see you, though. Can't say what he wants to talk about, since he didn't say anything on it. Can you come down here for visiting hours tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure." For a moment, he regretted not being able to visit Ian in prison before this. He knew Riley and Abby would go insane, but that was no excuse. "I'll be there," he said.

"Okay, see you then."

"Thanks, Sadusky."

"Sure thing, Ben."

NTNT

Sadusky led Ben to the infirmary. By then it was about noon, and he was sure to eat before making this trip. Sadusky held open the door and nodded to Ben, who returned the gesture and walked into the sterile white room. Ian lay on one of the beds, and, upon seeing his old friend, worked himself into a sitting position. "Don't get up on my account," Ben said, taking a seat on the plastic chair facing the bed. "You're looking okay for somebody who just got the crap pounded out of him." Silently, Ben noted the bruises blossoming on his face and arms.

"Thank you," Ian said. Ben nodded, but Ian added, "I'm serious, Ben. Thank you. Thank you for seeing me today."

"Of course. I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"You're a famous treasure hunter, Ben. Of course your life is crazy, and we both know what your friends think of me." Both men chuckled.

"Well, besides the beating, you doing okay here in prison?"

"Oh, it's alright. Kind of takes the mind off things."

"I'm sorry about Shaw. That wasn't supposed to happen."

"Thank you." Ian turned his gaze to the wall. Ben leaned back and laced his hands together.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He looked at Ben again. "I've come to realize that it's time to start over, rebuild my life. That's why I wanted to see you. I wanted to see if you'll still talk to me, and maybe we can start our friendship over. If you want to, of course. If not, I completely understand."

"Actually, that sounds good."

Ian smiled and held out the hand that wasn't wrapped in a cast. Ben shook it.

NTNT

He drummed his fingers against the desk and swiveled slightly with the chair, gnawing on his lip. The girl was following her brother's case too closely, so she had to be dealt with. But then, shortly after she learned the identity of one of his thugs, she'd made plans with a date, and she posed as a Yankee for that talk. She had unknowingly led him right to her, but she also probably knew his identity, so his going and finishing her would be too risky, much too risky. He pressed a button on his phone and said, "Kelley, McCaffrey, I have a new job for you."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Alright," Tanya said in an American accent as she applied her make-up. "Your name is Jacqueline Jones. Your friends call you Jackie. Your date calls you Jackie. He knows no other name for you, even though tonight he'll ask you how you came by your funds. You will say that you inherited them from several late relatives, combined with several menial jobs such as waitressing, though the money mostly comes from the inheritance." She blotted her lipstick on a square of toilet paper and tossed the crumpled wad into a waste bin. She walked back into her bedroom and, on a whim, strapped on a garter with a knife in the hilt. Thankfully Riley wasn't taking her to a place where she would be guaranteed a strip-search.

She smoothed the skirt over the garter and checked in the mirror to make sure the knife was completely invisible to even the most observant. Even when she knew it was there, she had a hard time locating it. She smiled and strapped up her shoes. She grabbed a jacket off the back of the sofa and opened the door to find Riley standing there, his hands in his pockets and a half-smile on his face. "Hey, you," she said. She felt it. She was fully Jackie. This was Jackie's time, her date, possibly the rest of her life. With a pang, she realized she might have to discard or assimilate her true self altogether, but she pushed this thought aside, stepped out of the apartment, and closed the door both on the apartment and on her self.

"You ready?" he asked.

"You betcha," Jackie replied. She followed him out of the apartment complex, and he held open the passenger door of his red Ferarri for her. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said in an exaggerated accent as she climbed in. He laughed, walked around the front, and got behind the wheel. He playfully revved the engine a couple times before pulling out of the parking lot and turning onto the street.

"I'd give you Ben's spiel on this restaurant we're going to, but I wasn't paying very much attention," he said. "I never do."

"Somebody did something in history and had fun."

"Exactly. That's exactly it."

"That's all you really need to know, really."

"Yeah, really," he said with a laugh. "Anyway, I picked it because of the mac and cheese."

"Good choice. I'm a huge fan of that stuff."

"Alright, then we're pretty well set. You know what, you're the first girl I've had a date with since my junior year in college."

"What?"

"I'm serious. Apparently I'm too much of a computer geek to have a girlfriend, or get a job outside of a windowless cubicle without the help of a history nerd and a rich, psychotic British dude."

"I read about that. Pretty much right from the start."

"So you know about how Ben kidnapped the President?"

"Yeah. He gets away with a lot, I think. I kinda feel bad for Ian Howe, though. Goes to prison and shit for the same damn things Gates did. Sorry, I try not to go off about this, but I feel very strongly."

"I think Ben singlehandedly divided the nation. Either love him or hate him."

"What about you? How do you feel?"

"He's my best friend."

"Doesn't answer my question."

"I think I'm the only one in the gray area. I get dragged into his cockamame schemes more often than not. I don't know how I do it."

Jackie laughed and glanced in the rearview mirror on impulse. A pair of headlights was right behind them. "Turn right," she said, "and then make a left."

"What?"

"I want to check something out first. It'll just take us a little longer to get to the restaurant."

"They're not gonna hold the table forever."

"I know. This is just a little test." Riley turned right. "After you take the left at the next corner, find your way back to the main road."

"Why are you doing this?"

Jackie looked in her mirror. The car had followed them. Riley turned left, and the car followed again. "We're being tailed." She settled back in her chair. Her hand drifted to the thigh where her knife lay in wait under the fabric of her skirt.

"We're being tailed?"

The car in the mirror gained some ground on them. Jackie risked a glance over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of somebody in the passenger seat reaching for something in the glovebox. Jackie reached for Riley's, opened it, and rifled around. "You don't even keep a gun in here? You know you can never be too careful, right?"

"What the hell is going on?"

Jackie took a deep breath, wondering if it was truth time. She glanced behind her again, at the car in pursuit. "We might not survive this," she said, watching a gun appear out of the car's passenger window. "Either we get shot outright, or they make it look like a car accident at the risk of one or both of us surviving."

"What are you talking about?" She noticed that his hands were shaking and he was gripping the wheel until his knuckles showed white.

"Somebody sent a couple cronies to kill us."

"What? Why?"

Her control shattered almost instantly. "Because my brother's Ian Howe and these are the blokes that beat him up and they work for my father and he wants us both dead or to give him something but we have no idea what and Ian's in no position to do anything about it and I've been in hiding for five years. There, I said it." She panted and stared, wide-eyed, out the windshield, waiting anxiously for Riley's reaction. "Oh," she added softly. "I hardly level with you at all. My real name's Tanya."

"Wait, you're British?" Riley asked. "Since when?"

"Since birth."

"Okay, help me out here. Why'd you change your name and accent?"

"Because everybody and their brother is convinced that my brother stole the bloody Declaration of Independence. By the way, turn right. This is a dead end." Riley obeyed. The car followed, trying to get close enough. He sped up instinctively. "I didn't want you to find out this way. In fact, I didn't want you to find out at all. The only other person that knows Tanya Howe is still around, outside of Ian and his men, is Sadusky. Once my brother was released, the plan was to become Jackie Jones completely, live in an apartment, work low-paying jobs, and live out the rest of my life as an average American, perhaps persuing citizenship at a later date."

"All that because your brother's in prison?"

"Do you know how much bad press I'd recieve? How many people would come after me with cameras and recorders and microphones and questions? How I would constantly be harrased, day after day, simply because I'm a Howe, because everyone thinks I know something about my brother's plan? Riley, that's my reality. That could be my life. It could be me run off the road because of paparazzi. Don't you get it?"

"Excuse me for being too freaked out to feel sorry for you."

Tanya removed the knife from her holster and held it to Riley's neck. "If you're not going to listen to reason, I'm going to force you to do what I want. Turn left."

"To make a bad situation worse," he muttered as he turned. "Is this really necessary?"

"What do you think?" A bullet ricocheted off the seat. Tanya ducked and swore. "Give me your phone."

Riley began patting himself down with one hand, finally finding his cell phone in his breast pocket. He handed it to her, and with her free hand, she dialled a number. "Hello?" Powell asked.

"It's me. We're in a little trouble. Help us get to your flat." Another bullet bounced off the Ferarri.

"Alright."

Through Tanya, Powell gave directions to Riley, who somehow managed to drive reasonably well in spite of the fact that his date was pressing a knife to his neck and somebody else was shooting at his beloved car. But the nervousness was not hidden: he'd broken out in a cold sweat, and despite the fact that he had the steering wheel in a death grip, his hands were shaking violently.

One turn nearly tore Tanya out of her seat and almost clipped the pole of a street light. "Just so you two know, we're probably breaking sixteen different traffic laws right now," Riley said.

"Alright, I see you," Powell said. Tanya looked and spotted a form on the sidewalk, between to street lights, a gun in hand. "Suggestin' you pull over."

"Pass him," Tanya said to Riley, tipping her chin to Powell on the sidewalk. "Then pull over. And try not to take out anyone's azaleas." Riley eased toward the sidewalk amid bullets on both sides of the fight and braked smoothly despite the situation, not ten feet past Powell. Tanya grabbed the keys, pulled Riley out of the Ferarri with her, and threw him onto the grass in front of Powell's building. "Stay here. If you squeal on them or him to anyone they're tracking, you're dead."

"W-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh. Wh..."

The car, a black Hummer, most likely lent out, parked almost immediately behind the Ferarri, and the two occupants were on the sidewalk almost before it was in park. The man in the passenger seat was still brandishing his gun. Objective, Tanya thought. Disarm. She kicked off her shoes and tossed them behind her. "Powell, cover me."

"Are you nuts?" Riley asked.

"Just go with it."

The man with the gun stepped toward her. She recognized the groundskeeper, Duncan Kelley. Sparing only a moment to breathe, she slashed at his arm, spun, and slashed his throat, grabbing his gun on the outspin. Kelley sank to the grass, bleeding profusely, and Tanya turned the gun on Rich McCaffrey, who threw his hands up and stumbled backward. She guided him toward the Hummer and said, "I suggest you get your friend out of here." McCaffrey grabbed Kelley and helped him into the truck before climbing in and pulling out. Tanya handed the gun to Powell and turned to Riley. "Alright, it's over now."

Riley blinked. He'd lost all color, and his skin looked clammy, but at least he stopped shaking. Or was he shaking so fast she couldn't see it? When she grabbed him by the sleeve, she found this wasn't so, so she dragged him into Powell's apartment, on the second floor. At least he tried to stumble his way up the stairs.

He sank into one of the chairs around the kitchen table, his arms dangling at his sides and his eyes wide and blank. "I must've rocked him pretty bad," Tanya said, turning to Powell.

"Well, we did ruin your date," he replied. "Least we could do is let him stay here."

"Yeah." She looked at him again. "Riley?" she asked. "You alright?"

"Still shaken from being shot at, but I'm okay. Thanks for asking," he replied, his voice as flat as his eyes.

"No problem. Sorry about lying to you. I want you to know that it's nothing to do with you. I'm not trying to con you. I needed to reinvent myself for personal reasons. Do you understand?" Riley nodded.

"The part I don't get is the paparazzi part. You want to avoid a bunch of guys with cameras because they piss you off?"

"Yes. They're fiends, Riley. Fiends."

"Okay, that makes sense."

"Fantastic. Need to know anything else?"

"I don't know how much else I can handle right now." Tanya nodded and leaned back in her chair. "That was pretty cool, a little bit ago, you against those guys."

"Thank you."

"Can I have my phone back?" She handed him his cell phone, and he called the restaurant. She walked out to the main chamber, where Powell was slouching on one end of the sofa, channel surfing. An open beer can sat on the table next to where the arch of his foot met the table's edge. She walked to his dresser and then to his bathroom, where she changed into a pair of his jeans and one of his tee shirts, and then she returned to the sofa and took a seat at the other end.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Riley awoke and proceeded to stretch out his neck, wondering what the hell he was doing on the floor. Then he noticed the unfamiliar apartment, saw Jackie-Tanya-next to him, and then heard Powell's distinct chain-saw snoring. The rest of the previous evening came back to him. Not only had a woman lied to him and everyone else she'd ever met except only a few people, he'd been shot at by goons with a gun, and bullets had nicked his beloved Ferarri. "My car," he said, shooting into a sitting position.

Tanya mumbled something like, "Do you need to yell?" but he couldn't be sure. He stood, walked out of Powell's apartment, and made his way onto the sidewalk. His Ferarri was parked exactly where Tanya told him to leave it, but in the morning light, he saw the dents left by the bullets. He ran his hand over the trunk gingerly. He counted exactly four incidents of damage left by bullets, to the body of his car and to the upholstery. Easy fix, logically, but somebody had damaged his car. "My car," he said again.

NTNT

Tanya stirred, heard the door close, felt the coldness of the floor next to her. Powell was still snoring. She stirred and pulled her shirt down over her stomach from where it had ridden up in her sleep. She gathered up the dress and garter she wore the previous night, washed off the knife (translation: spent ten minutes scrubbing it clean in Powell's kitchen sink), and raided the fridge for anything to eat. Besides cold pizza and some questionable Chinese take-out, nothing appealed to her. Powell didn't even have tea, and there was no way in hell she was touching that coffee crap Americans so loved.

She shut the fridge door, shoved the now-dry knife into its hoster on the garter, and turned toward the front door...

...just as Riley walked in. "My car wasn't turned into Swiss cheese, and since we couldn't do dinner last night, maybe we can do breakfast?" he asked.

"You're pretty cheery about this, since I lied to you and all," she replied.

"Well, you made perfect sense explaining it last night, and sleep did me good, and you said you had paparazzophobia."

Tanya smirked. "I said no such thing."

Riley shrugged. "Oh, well, it's still a cool word."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Paparazzophobia," she muttered to herself. "You know," she said, looking back at him, "you read my mind with that breakfast thing. I'm craving a burrito. Ham and egg."

"Okey-dokey, sounds good to me, too. You still have my keys?"

"Should be on the lawn."

"They didn't get stolen?"

"Who steals the keys to a Ferarri without taking the bloody car?"

"Good point." The corner of her lip curled up, and she nodded. Riley clapped once, rubbed his hands together for a moment, and turned toward the door. She followed him out to his car, snatched the keys off the lawn, and tossed them to him. He smirked, climbed into the driver's seat, started the car, and began revving the engine.

"I'm sorry, but I fail to find that sexually attractive," Tanya said, stepping into the Ferarri. "And while we're out, let's find you a gun to keep in your glovebox, one you can learn to shoot, easy to handle, in case this happens again."

"You want me to carry a gun?"

"I want you to keep it in your glovebox, for your safety."

"You're not going to kill me with it, are you?"

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have let those wankers kill you." Riley nodded. "I'm sorry I pressed a knife to your neck."

"It's okay. Last night was...weird."

"To say the least."

Riley parked in front of a small restaurant and disappeared inside. Tanya leaned back and studied her surroundings, using the mirrors more often than looking over her shoulder directly. The less out of place she looked, the better. Her phone buzzed, and she answered with a brusque, "Hello?"

"Good morning, Miss Howe," Sadusky replied. "Got word from your brother's doctors. They say he's trying out his bad ankle against their wishes. They think he's gonna break it if he's not careful."

Tanya laughed. "That sounds like my brother."

Sadusky's tone darkened. "That's not the only news."

"Go on," she said in a low voice.

"Some of our contacts in other areas of security and protection have detected a hit on their network, moving into the most heavily encripted areas of the system."

"What is this about?"

"We're not sure, but we wouldn't be telling you if the name Howe didn't keep popping up in these searches."

"You checked them out?"

"Had to. We could be looking at a potential breach, and I think I know the one person who's that good."

"Wait, you have a suspect? Was a crime even committed?"

"We can't tell. The searches look like a preliminary, but I know only one person outside the system who can get this close to this much sensitive materal."

"Who?"

"Look, we need to be careful about this. Ben Gates is a personal friend of mine, but this could be a matter of national security. It seems like the only person who truly knows what all this is about is the President of the United States."

"Who's hacking your system?"

"You sure you want to know this?"

"Whoever's doing this obviously knows something about my family and whatever the thugs wanted from my brother. That or he's just curious and has found something along the way. If I can find this person, I might get an answer or two."

"I understand."

"So shoot me a name."

Sadusky sighed heavily. Tanya's eyes drifted to the front of the restaurant. Finally, he said, "Riley Poole."

At that moment, the man in question walked out of the restaurant with two foil-wrapped burritos in hand. "I've gotta go," she breathed, her phone drifted from her ear. She snapped it shut before it reached her lap. He walked up to the passenger door and handed her a burrito.

"Ham and egg," he said.

"Thanks."

He leaned against the windshield. "Everything okay? Did something happen?"

She thought about what Sadusky said, but she didn't get the chance to mention it. "Excuse me, Mr. Poole," a man said. Tanya turned to see that the speaker was well-dressed and surrounded by black-suited men with earpieces.

"Mr. President," Riley replied, setting his burrito on the hood to shake the man's hand. Tanya set her burrito and phone on the center consule.

"Gates told me about you."

"Figures he would. I've gotta say, to me, this is the opportunity of a lifetime."

"So he had you do that preliminary?"

"Yeah." Oh, God, Tanya thought. He's seen the name Howe, over and over again in the government database, but does he know why? "Don't worry, though," Riley was saying. "He always jumps the gun on crazy stuff like this."

The President chuckled. "Well, if that's what works for him, that's gonna be what gets the job done."

"Thank you, Mr. President. It's an honor."

"It's an honor to have you on board."

"Thank you."

"Good luck." With that, the President and his detail walked past the Ferarri. When Tanya was certain they were out of earshot, she said, "So it's true."

"What's true?" Riley asked after he picked up his burrito and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Can you put up the cover and roll the windows up?"

"Why?"

"They can't know that I know."

"Uh...okay," he said slowly. He pressed a button, and the roof slowly slid over them. Another button, and the windows were rolling up. "Okay, what's going on? What else aren't you telling me?"

"I've been following my brother's case. Recently he was attacked in prison by thugs who are apparently working for someone who wants something from us. I've just learned that you may have recently learned something about this."

"You're not sup...wait, you and Ian...you said your father was involved?" He stared at her for a moment, his finger in the air, and then he slumped back in his seat, his hands in his lap. His burrito was still in his hand.

"What?"

"Sorry, this is too much freak-out for twenty-four hours. First you, now this...Sorry."

"It's alright, but I want you to realize that you're getting involved with a very dangerous man. He will not hesitate to have you killed, and I've a feeling McCaffrey and Kelley might come after us again. I doubt Kelley is dead, unless he really did lose a lot of blood, but still. This isn't over." She took a deep breath and looked away.

"Last I checked, Ben, Abby, and I made our livings like this." She detected a dry laugh in his voice. He unwrapped the burrito and took a bite.

She settled back in her seat and stared at her lap. "You can lower the cover now."

NTNT

The ride back to Tanya's apartment building passed in silence, and she watched from her window as the Ferarri disappeared into traffic. She lay her head against the window pane, and it pounded with the influx of information that had been forced upon her in all of twenty minutes. Riley had breached security at most top levels of the cybernetwork of Washington, D.C., and he found something linking Ian's beating, their attack the previous night, Riley's preliminary, and Ben Gates, the man who jailed her brother in the first place and would likely do the same if given the chance.

But she had no idea what linked everything together. The thugs were employed to get something, at whatever human life it cost, and whatever it was, it was linked to both the Howe family and the highest levels of government cybernetic security.

She grabbed her copy of Riley's book, signed with her own pen, and opened the back cover. On the back flap, just as she suspected, was his blurb and, more importantly, his website. She opened her laptop, logged on, and opened the internet browser to enter the website into the address box.

The page showed a trailer for the book, which she skipped, and then she looked at the tabs on the top of the site's home page. She clicked on one called 'The President's Book of Secrets' and skimmed the text. There was the usual: Area Fifty-One, JFK, MLK, the Freemasons, Bohemian Grove, but then she saw something else, a section titled 'Page 47'.

There was only one sentence: "Whatever is on this enigmatic page of the President's secret book, it's been described as 'life-altering'."

"Life-altering," she whispered to herself, wondering how far she'd get in internet searches into the subject. Not far, she figured. If this was all expert hacker Riley had on his website, or was allowed to put (the site being in the public domain), then she'd learn nothing new. So how could she get to what was private, top secret?

Riley was going to be in close contact with this book, which apparently existed, so how was she going to go along for the ride? She was a Howe, sister to the attack victim, so perhaps she could convince Sadusky on those grounds to get him to show her what Riley's been looking up. From there, she could deduce exactly what was on that page. Then she could beat her adversary to whatever was at the end of this, save her brother and her new flame, and possibly be able to return to society again, as Tanya Howe, on her own merit and not as the sister of the man who was blamed for stealing one of the most important documents in American history.

She shut the laptop down and set it on the sofa, and then she shrugged on a jacket, slipped on some shoes, picked up her keys, and walked toward the door.

She grabbed the knife from her garter before opening the door, only a small part of her thinking this was the act of a paranoid woman, and she opened the door. Her stomach plunged through several floors to the lobby.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Standing in the doorway was a white-haired man in a suit. She barely registered this beyond the black barrel of a gun, fixed on a point between her eyebrows. He smirked, and she clenched her fists and said, "Hello, Nathaniel."

"Oh?" he asked. "No 'Daddy Dearest', teacup?"

She grabbed his gun hand and slammed it into the door jamb, and then she shoved her knife into his diaphragm. He gasped and stared at her. "If you want something done right, do it yourself the first time."

"Bitch!" He shoved his hand forward, disrupting her hold on him, and he punched her on the temple. She stumbled to the side and then stood and faced him, tossing her hair out of her face. He growled and aimed. She ducked, and a bullet struck the television, rendering it out of commission. She snatched her phone off the table and made her way toward the door. He fired again, this bullet striking the door frame. Somebody had to be calling the cops by now.

Could disarm, but he'll kill me, she thought. Keep self safe, get to Sadusky, ask him why we're being targeted, ask for Riley's searches and results.

Another bullet, this one striking the door of the apartment across the hall. She heard a woman open the door, yelling, "What the hell is... Holy shit!" She grabbed Tanya and pulled her into her own apartment before slamming the door shut. "Who the hell was that?"

"That's my father," Tanya replied. "I need you to help me get out of this building. I know where to go where I can be safe."

"Got family there, wherever that is?"

"I have a friend. He can help me."

The woman nodded and moved toward the fire escape. Tanya tossed the knife into a flower pot. Damn city, she thought as she followed the woman onto the platform and down four flights of stairs. "Dammit," Tanya said when they reached the sidewalk.

"What?" the other woman asked.

"I left my keys in the apartment."

"I don't have a car, so I don't know what you're gonna do."

Tanya pocketed her phone and looked up at the fourth-story window, where she could just see Nathaniel's head through the railing of the fire escape. "I'm gonna take his car." With that, Tanya ran around to the front of the building and spotted the most out-of-place car in the entire lot: a silver Lamborghini. The bloke can't rent a normal car when he goes out to off someone? she asked herself as she looked over her shoulder and then climbed into the driver's seat. The keys weren't in the ignition, but they were in the seat next to her. God bless idiocy.

She started the car and pulled onto the street just as Nathaniel appeared in her rearview, standing on the sidewalk and taking aim. He shot twice, missed both times. She continued on.

NTNT

Tanya parked the stolen goods in an alley, pocketed the keys, and walked the remaining two blocks to the FBI building. Agents milled about with coffee and water and donuts, talking amiably about nothing in the lobby. She breezed past with barely an acknowledgement.

"Midget?" She turned in the middle of the hallway. Ian limped toward her, brushing off two doctors who tried to stop him. Tanya crossed the distance and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He returned the embrace and whispered, "What's wrong?"

"He's here," she whispered, her breath ragged. She realized she was shaking.

"Tanya..."

"He tried to kill me."

"It's alright. You're safe with me, I promise."

"Excuse me, ma'am," one of the doctors said. "His ankle really needs to rest."

"You shut up," Ian snapped. Tanya pulled away, and Ian returned his attention to her. "Are you here to see anyone?"

"Sadusky. Riley found something on Nathaniel's motive, or potential motive, and he knows about it." Ian nodded. "Will you come with me? Please?"

"Absolutely." He left an arm on her shoulders and limped alongside her. "Are you alright?"

"I think so."

He squeezed gently and rubbed her shoulder. "You got away from him alright?"

"I have his car, so I guess you can say I profited."

"You stole his car? Very nice."

Tanya chuckled. "I thought we didn't condone this sort of behavior."

"On paper." They both laughed.

"Alright, here we are." Tanya turned and knocked on a door. At a verbal signal from the inside of the door, she opened the door, and they walked inside.

"Either you feel really good, or you're crazy," Sadusky said, giving Ian a once-over. He turned his gaze to Tanya. "Look a little shaken."

"I got shot at," she said. "By the same man who sent thugs to attack my brother. Riley found a clue as to why this is so, and I want to know what this clue is." Sadusky's eyes narrowed slightly. "Please," Tanya whispered. "Our lives are at stake."

"I've got a better idea."

NTNT

Ian and Tanya climbed out of an unmarked car and walked/limped down the path into the park. "I hope Sadusky knows what he's doing," Tanya whispered.

"I've seen him handle my case. He went over every detail, didn't try to force a confession. He's a true professional," Ian replied.

"...and what the hell were you thinking, trying to contact Ian again? He could try to kill us. Did try to kill us," Riley was saying. He was standing in front of a bench, gesticulating to his friend, sitting with his ankle on his knee and his arms on the back of the bench.

"Don't ask," Ian muttered to Tanya.

"He said it himself," Ben said. "He believes it's time to start over."

"How do you know he's not lying to you."

"Hate to interrupt the argument," Ian said, limping over, "but I believe we've something to discuss. Now, I count four of us. Where are the other two?"

"Abby wanted to stay home," Ben replied. "She still thinks you're insane. Granted, she did meet you in a car chase and learn your name while hiding from you."

"And that leaves the sixth."

"And his detail," the President said. Tanya turned to face him and his two accompanying Secret Service agents, who hung about five feet behind him and stopped by a bush as he continued toward them. "The missus staying home?" he asked Ben.

"Yeah," Ben replied.

The President turned toward Tanya and Ian. "Mr. Howe, Ms. Howe."

"Mr. President," Ian said.

"It has come to my attention that whatever this hunt leads to is the reason that you two are being attacked."

"One could say that," Tanya said, fighting her sudden annoyance. Attack was, while true, a trivializing word from some people. To her, the man in front of her looked like one of those people. "All I want to know is why we're being targeted. Once I find that, I'll be out of your hair."

"Actually, I might like to have you on board. I've heard about your research into your own family."

"My research?"

"Most of it's genealogical, but I especially enjoyed your work with the Codewriting system."

"You've been perusing my computer?"

"We have something in the Library of Congress on the Codewriting system elaborated on by Damien and Amelia Howe. I thought Ian would know something, but it turns out that you're the one with the knowledge, and the skills."

"Why did you even bother to look?"

"That Codewriting is found on page forty-seven of my book."

"And you can't decipher it?"

"That's why I enlisted Ben and later, his friend, at his request, and now, hopefully, you two."

"You want us to join the team?"

"For your various talents."

"And you hope I, or at the very least my work, will help you decipher a single page in your Book of Secrets."

The President nodded. "That's the hope." Tanya shifted her weight onto her heels and nodded slowly, biting her lip, giving the President a once-over.

"So were you being careful? Trying to somehow keep yourself protected?"

"You could say that."

She pursed her lips, looked askance at Ian. He nodded curtly, slightly. A casual observer wouldn't have caught the gesture. "Alright," she said. "I'm on board."

"I was on board for almost a week now, in case you haven't noticed," Ian said.

The President nodded, smiled, said, "Keep me posted," nodded to Ben, and then walked off to the two Secret Service agents.

"That went well," Ben said.

"You're the expert," Riley added. "I'm taking your word for it."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Riley placed the phone in the center of the table. Through Sadusky, he had gotten Ian on speakerphone. Tanya sat next to him, and across from them were Ben and Abigail. After a little explaining on Ben and Riley's part, Abby finally accepted the fact that Ian was working with them under the supervision of an FBI agent. "Where are we so far?" Ian asked.

"It seems like this passage is undecipherable," Ben replied, handing Tanya and Riley a photocopy. "I think the President's right about the Codewriting thing, though."

"Well, that's why you have my sister."

Tanya looked the photocopy over. "It looks like verse," she said, "simply based on where the text is." Ben looked up at her. Abby looked blank, unchanging from when this conversation started. "Codewriting is based on text and formatting. If you wanted to write a poem this way, it would look like the plaintext, format-wise."

"You think you can crack it?" Abby asked.

"The Codewriting, yes. Whatever's underneath it, it depends. And, I'd send a copy of this to Ian to work on independently of myself. I'll make sure he has copies of all the necessary keys, once I get them shipped over from London."

"You're gonna trust him?"

"I know you met him in a car chase and learned his name while hiding from him," Tanya said. "I read about it, and you were quite vocal to the papers. You're also photogenic, but that's another matter entirely. Anyway, Ian's my brother and the only real family I have left. He's done nothing but take care of me for most of my life. I trust him already."

"Aww, that's sweet," Ian said. "Thanks, midget."

"Why does he call you 'midget'?" Riley asked. "You're nearly as tall as he is."

"I didn't use to be."

"Okay," Ben said, "so you and Ian are going to work the Codewriting independently to compare notes at the end of the day. Then what?"

"Then it's an open floor for whoever can figure the rest out."

"Hey, quick question, what if there's another layer of this stuff?" Riley asked.

"Another layer of Codewriting? That can get pretty complicated pretty quickly, for obvious reasons," Ian replied. "But I can see the practicality behind it."

"Either way, it would require a symbol key as well as a plaintext one. I may as well ask for all the contents of the storage unit. At the very least all the boxes."

"Have you sent for it already?"

"Not yet. I will after this."

"So in a few days you'll be ready to roll?" Ben asked.

"Try a few weeks. Remember, shipping. And I'd want them dropped off at Powell's, in case Nathaniel comes back, and he will." She looked at Abby. "Do you have access to a copier?"

"Of course I do," she said.

"Fantastic. You won't mind if I ask you to make copies at some point, do you?"

"What sort of copies?"

"A couple keys and maybe a few samples. If not you, I can find someone else."

"No, it's fine. I've done weirder, trust me." Tanya smirked. "A few copies of what? Notebook paper?"

"Yeah."

Abby nodded. "Okay, I can help with that."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Okay, so what comes next?" Riley asked. "After we figure out what this page actually says?" He set the paper on the coffee table next to the phone.

"In all honesty, that depends on what the Codewriting reveals to us," Ian said. "If it turns out there are several layers of Codewriting, we'll have to get through all that before we reach the plaintext."

"And if the plaintext is some stupid riddle?"

"Then we'll turn it over to our good friend and miracle worker Ben Gates."

"What about you? You're pretty good, too," Tanya said.

"Yeah, good enough to let Gates put me in prison and take away several years of my life." Ben opened his mouth, even let a syllable out, and Ian added, "Relax, Ben. It's almost over. My stint in the infirmary may be one of my last memories of this place."

"Good news for me," Tanya said. "I knew with the charges and how well you handled them it wouldn't be long."

"Fantastic," Abby snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "As soon as he gets out, he's going to kill us all."

"You don't know that," Ian said, "and technically, I won't even be allowed to own a gun."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"I dunno about you, but it does to me," Riley said.

"Besides, I don't think Ian's going to cause any problems," Ben added.

"Don't worry, Ben. I'll be good," Ian said.

"I appreciate that, Ian. Thank you."

"Thank you."

"Alright, ladies and gents, I need to get to sending for a few boxes from across the pond," Tanya said, standing and rubbing her palms together. "If you'll excuse me."

"I suppose I should go. Sadusky's getting impatient."

"Alright," Ben said. Ian hung up, and Riley put the phone in is computer bag.

"What do I do?" Riley asked.

"Could you see what else you can find connected to the Codewriting?"

"Can do, Ben." He stood and walked toward Tanya. "I'll call you when I have something."

"That sounds just fantastic, Riley." Riley smiled and nodded, and with Tanya made his way to the door.

NTNT

Tanya stared out of Riley's windshield and smirked. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking that our first real date, one that really shouldn't have happened if everything went right for me, was for breakfast burritos at a cheap chain restaurant," she replied.

"Yeah, that is pretty funny. You were, what, supposed to remain Jackie Jones for the rest of your life?"

"Basically, or until my brother was out of prison and had his assets, at which point I planned to leave the States and join him in Britain. Then your beloved car got shot at."

"Kind of a shame. At the very least I want the upholstery fixed."

"Why the upholstery and not the body proper?"

Riley sighed, gnawed at the inside of his lip. "Would you feel bad if I fixed the whole thing?"

"It's your car, and God knows you have the means."

"Maybe I'm not fixing it because those bullet holes are from our technically first date."

"This is your car. You are quoted as saying that this is the greatest thing that has ever happened to you."

"Doesn't mean great things still can't happen." Tanya blushed. "Besides, I checked out the damage. Not too bad. I can find a guy to fix it cheap if I have to."

"And cheap means what to you now?"

Riley shrugged. "Few hundred."

Tanya smirked. "That would be expensive to the average American. I should know. I've tried."

"You tried being an average American?"

"You think I would have failed?"

"Probably."

"Early on people asked questions, so I had to quit a couple jobs because of it."

"Practice makes perfect. I bought it."

"Thank you."

"I still think you're pretty cool."

"Looks like your book did win you a girl after all."

"For as long as we can be together." Tanya's blush deepened, and then, on impulse, she kissed his cheek.

"Whoa, whoa, careful," he said. "I'm trying to drive here. Don't make me crash."

"God forbid we should total your precious Ferarri." Riley erupted into laughter. "Easy, Ri. You're driving's impaired right now."

Riley fought for control of himself. Tanya kept an anxious eye on the road ahead and to both sides. Finally, he sighed, took a few deep breaths, and said, "Okay, I should be good now."

"Alright."

"But I do really love this car." She smiled and leaned back in the seat. "Whaddaya think of this country?"

"I haven't been beyond D.C., but I hate it sometimes. I carry a knife in my garter, and everybody and their brother thinks I'm a jihadist. I'm lucky if I find a place where I don't get patted down every five minutes, or every time I have to use the restroom." Her head rolled back to the headrest. "Bloody hell, I miss London."

"Well, Philly's pretty nice, when nobody jumps in front of trucks in search of historical documents."

"Or shooting at you." He shot her a look. "I read all sixteen special editions of the London Times."

"They published this in London?"

"It went viral. Those editions were the best sales that paper has probably ever had. Everyone was reading them."

"Wow. We're big overseas."

"You certainly are."

NTNT

Sadusky watched Ian for a long moment as he flipped a pen end over end and stared at the corner of the desk, his eyes glazed over, and then he asked, "Whatcha thinkin'?"

Ian blinked and looked up at the agent. "Excuse me. I had a moment," he whispered. "I was thinking about Shaw."

Sadusky nodded. "We left his body down there, in case you wanna go back, say a few words."

"Thank you."

Sadusky nodded again. "Think you can limp back to your cell?"

"I can, but I doubt I should. I don't want to be attacked again. Some may see limping as a sign of weakness, especially with the amount of damage the doctors here say I'm doing to my ankle just by walking."

"I can see that."

The two men nodded to each other, and Ian asked, "What should I do now?"

"About what?"

"Nathaniel, my life, preferably both."

"Nathaniel, your father?" Ian nodded. "Well, I think you can help us with that."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

After sending for the packages from the London storage unit, Tanya booted up her laptop and shot an email off to Ben, asking for a copy of the page in question. Minutes later, she recieved a message which read, "Encryption courtesy of Riley." She couldn't help but smirk, and then she opened the attachment. After several pop-ups that either asked about options or loaded x, y, or z, the image popped up.

Carefully, she enchanced the image, making sure the symbols were as clear as possible. Her eyes were fixed on a solitary symbol, a stylized version of the Three Legs, above the first section of text. When nothing more could be done to improve the image quality, she zoomed in.

Tanya picked a notebook and pen off the coffee table, opened it to the first clean page, and copied down the symbol text on the screen, double-checking each and every one. Mistranslations and mis-copies led to dead ends, in her experience. Every symbol had to be copied exactly.

She stared at the stylized Three Legs she had copied onto the notebook paper. It led to a symbol key and translated to a symbol on that key that would lead to another key. There was definitely more than one layer of code. But the key this symbol led to... She rubbed her brow, trying to remember exactly where she'd seen that symbol before. She'd gone over the keys in the journals for her hobby, that the President had found through some techie working for him-she had no idea how she felt about that-but she found nothing that was marked like this. Was this a top-secret key only Damien and Amelia, or some other Howe, used? If so, it would have to be written somewhere, at the very least as a reference, but then it would've been burned, unless it was needed again.

So many what-ifs, no way to investigate them or even begin to, until her boxes arrived, somewhere around the first part of the next month. She closed her computer and pulled the cord out of its plug. Best to leave as little trace as possible. Whatever she didn't save would be deleted in a few minutes. As for the paper copy, she ripped it out and tossed it into a corner of the closet in case anyone showed up. She returned to the sofa and sent Riley a text message: 'have anything?'

'nada,' he replied. 'you?'

'I know what key to use, but I can't remember where it is.'

'that sucks.'

'maybe ian will know.'

'you think?'

'yeah.'

Riley fell silent on the other end of the phone line, so she settled onto the couch dialled a number.

NTNT

Ian closed the folder and set it on Sadusky's desk, looking at the man in question, who had leaned forward and laced his fingers in front of him. "That accurate?"

"You're missing the bit about how particulary he is about which car he uses to go where," Ian replied. "The Bentley for his hobby, the Mercedes for his official employment, the Honda for his second job, the Hummer is lent to his employees, and the Lamborghini for business trips. He's so particular, in fact, that once, his Mercedes had to be repaired. He refused to go anywhere near his office, or even leave the house except for certain matters, until the car was returned to him." Ian smirked and shook his head softly.

"Alright," Sadusky said with a nod. "I'll be sure to note it."

Ian nodded. "Anything else?"

"Picture this: You're new to the country, your intentions are criminal, possibly homicidal, and you need a place to stay that's close to your prey. Where is it?"

"Within a block or two radius of the prey's residence, where I won't be strip-searched and checked over every time I enter and exit the building, a place where people don't ask questions, and where no one would be willing to talk to police."

"Alright."

"Around Tanya's apartment, that would be a warehouse on Fifth Street." Sadusky raised his eyebrows. "It's part of the identity she chose for herself, a whole area full of apartment complexes." He nodded in understanding.

"Well, we'll check it out."

Ian nodded. "Anything else?"

"Nope, not yet." Ian nodded again, and he stood to leave.

Sadusky's phone rang. "Hello? Uh-huh." He held the phone out to Ian. "It's for you."

Ian took the phone and said, "Howe."

"Ian, I've got a question for you," Tanya said. "Do you recognize the stylized Three Legs symbol?"

"Three Legs? Where did you see that?"

"On our latest project."

"Is it a swirl-ish-looking thing where the legs are hardly distinguishable?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "You know it?"

"Nathaniel has the symbol key."

Tanya muttered a few swear words, blending them together in an obvious effort to find the right word for her feelings. "If he gets his hands on the page, he could decode it, and he'll get to the end of this before we've even gotten off the ground," she finally managed. "Ian, you know what this means."

"Very well. Very, very well. I'll start as soon as I can."

"Alright. What's your directive for me?"

"Get an airline ticket and some addresses to Powell. As long as Nathaniel's here, he won't be influencing the help to hide anything from one of us."

"Alright."

"Good luck and be careful. Oh, and keep calm and carry on."

"You, too, Ian. You, too."

He nodded, hung up, and handed the phone back to Sadusky. "Any chance I can come with you when you raid that warehouse? There's something I want to find."

NTNT

Tanya called Powell soon after Ian hung up. He answered after two rings. "Just got word from Ian," she said. "He wants you to fly to London and search both the Howe home and...and Fifteen-Seventy Broad River Road."

"You're out of your bloody mind," Powell replied.

"Not my orders, Ian's. I'm just acting as the messenger, so if you want to shoot me, you have Ian to deal with, and you're not really supposed to kill a messenger anyway. I'm digressing. I'll get your flight worked out. I just need to know how much time you think you'd need."

"You're serious about this."

"He has a symbol key that we need, and we all know asking him for it is out of the question."

"So if I do go through with this, I'm looking for a bunch of papers I can't read?"

"Something like that, yes. Actually a page marked by a stylized Three Legs."

Powell sighed. "Since it's Ian asking, and since he's the beneficiary on my life insurance policy, I'll need about a week."

"Alright, you'll have the ticket as soon as I can get it to you."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

"I'll have something."

"Right," she said softly before she hung up. Then she returned to the computer, booted it up again, and began searching for flights.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

A sound at her door drew Tanya's attention away from the television, and she walked over and picked up a small envelope, the front of which was blank. She opened the envelope and pulled out her freshly cleaned knife and a Post-It note. 'You're gonna need this, honey,' signed by a woman named Kelsie Brewer, a name she recognized from the nameplate across the hall. She put the envelope in her pocket and then crossed the hall and knocked on the door of her neighbor.

The woman, Kelsie Brewer, with her short brown hair sticking out every which way and her bright brown-hazel eyes watching Tanya somewhat suspiciously, opened the door. "You doin' alright?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Tanya replied.

"I don't remember you being British, but then, last time was kind of a strange case."

"May I come in? I've got a few things to explain to you."

"Yeah, sure, feel free." Kelsie stepped to the side and gestured for Tanya to enter, and they walked into the living area. "You drink coffee?"

"No."

"Is water good?"

"Yes, thank you." Kelsie nodded and walked into the kitchen, filling two glasses with tap water. She returned to the living area and sat across from Tanya, setting a glass in front of her. "I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me, especially when Nathaniel showed up."

"He the crazy one?"

"That would be him."

"Not a problem at all, honey."

Tanya sipped from her glass. "I am British, and I've been posing as American, sans citizenship, for the last five years, for personal reasons." Kelsie nodded. "I intended to adopt my American identity permanently, eventually seeking citizenship, but other personal matters disrupted this plan and forced me back into my true self."

"So basically you moved here to reinvent yourself, got attacked, and had to be you again?"

"Yes, that's it."

Kelsie took a drink from her glass and set it on the table, then laced her fingers together. "That crazy got anything to do with it?"

"Actually, he has a lot to do with it, almost everything. You see, I'm helping a friend of my brother's on a special commission, and apparently Nathaniel knows about it and is trying to stop me."

"Honey, you need help."

"I stabbed him in the gut. I think I can handle him."

"He keeps trying to kill you."

"Sooner or later he's going to get killed his own self."

"Yeah, you're gonna slit his throat or something." Tanya smirked. Kelsie continued, "But you can't do it without that knife."

"Of course."

"That's a sweet piece of work. Where'd you get it?"

"Had it custom-made back in London, a long time ago."

"Must've cost a small fortune."

"Nothing costs too much if your life is at stake."

"Still. What's that thing worth?"

Tanya shrugged. "Can't quite remember. Somewhere on the order of a few hundred pounds."

"Which is what in American dollars?"

"Haven't bothered to figure that out."

"Sounds like a lot, though."

"As I said, it's for my safety, and a custom knife has worked very well for me throughout the years. It feels good to me."

"Then you've got a good weapon. Nothin' worse than a weapon you can't use."

"Or one you're not comfortable with."

Kelsie held her drink toward Tanya as if in a toast, took a sip, and then asked, "So, if your name's not Jacqueline like it says on the plate, what is it?"

"Tanya."

Kelsie nodded, pursing her lips. "Sweet."

"Uh, thanks, I think."

Kelsie smiled and looked down at her glass. When she looked up at Tanya again, she said, "Bet you're itchin' to get out of this town."

"I'm itching for people to stop thinking I'm a terrorist because I own a knife."

"We got somebody by the fire stairs that's like that. Can't get a job here to save his life, 'cept being hired out as a mercenary."

"Do you know his name? I think I'd like to meet this bloke."

"Gonna date him?"

"Actually, I'm spoken for, or I'm going to be spoken for. I hope so."

"So you got a boyfriend."

"I think so."

"What's his name?"

"Riley. Riley Poole." The glass nearly slipped from Kelsie's hand, but she tightened her grip just in time and set it on the table.

"The guy with the crazy theories that he put into a book?"

"Well, the Templar Treasure is real. Most museums will corroborate that."

"But still. A presidents' book full of secrets? If he didn't sound legit on paper, I'd think he was a complete lunatic."

Tanya thought about what Sadusky had told her about Riley's recent research. "You never know," she said. "It might actually be true."

Kelsie gave a humorless laugh. "God, I wish it was true, especially what he wrote about Watergate."

"Watergate?"

"So these five guys are caught breaking into the Watergate Hotel, right? They're arrested, investigation ensues, and it's revealed that these guys are connected to people in the White House, not much beyond that, really. Really big scandal here in the States." Tanya nodded. "But much as I wanna know if that book even exists, much less contains the eighteen missing minutes of the Watergate tapes, I seriously doubt it. I mean, how did that thing survive four assassinations? For one thing."

Tanya shrugged. "Well, if such a book did exist, I'd be happy to decipher a code or two that its pages might contain, especially if it's a code that's been used by our family for generations."

"What are you, a cryptographer or something?"

"Genealogist of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

"It's a hobby."

"Sounds like a pretty boring hobby. Most people's families aren't all that interesting, unless you're a Gates."

"Or a Howe."

Kelsie's eyes widened. "Wait, you're Ian's sister, the one who's in jail for this random crap. What is it, tresspassing on government property, kidnapping, attempted murder?"

"Yes, exactly. He'll be out soon."

"You two close?"

"Yeah."

"Is he single?"

"He's twice your age, and I don't think you'd be his type."

"Is he gay?"

"Actually, I don't know, and it's really none of my business. I'm just his sister."

"Good. I'm glad to know that's where you stand on the subject."

"What do you take us for?"

"You know all those old royal families in Europe, how they slept with themselves and each other."

"Oh, I know. Very well. I believe that was the cause of the Great War, or a great contributing factor."

Kelsie took a sip from her glass and set it on the table in front of her. She'd crossed her legs, and one elbow rested on her knee. She set the other elbow on this knee and smiled. "Shoulda brought you a pie or something, gotten to know my neighbor better. You're good company, if a little bit weird."

"Thank you."

Kelsie downed the rest of her water and walked into the kitchen to put the glass in the sink. When she returned to the living room, she found Tanya standing, facing the door, her quarter-full glass on the table. By the slight tilt of her head, Kelsie guessed Tanya was listening for something. Or someone. "Every-" Tanya held up a hand to silence her. Finally, Kelsie heard a set of footsteps coming down the hall.

The footsteps paused just outside the door, and Kelsie had her guess as to who owned the steps. And who this person was looking for. She eyed Tanya with mounting concern, but to all outward appearances, the Brit seemed perfectly calm, perhaps even preparing for battle and thinking, Come get me, you bastard.

Tanya felt she was barely masking her rising heart rate and adrenaline levels as she heard the slight turn of the footsteps toward Kelsie's door. She doubted Kelsie heard this sound, but she could tell that her neighbor had noticed she was listening and waiting.

Two footsteps closer. Did he think I would come here again? Tanya wondered. Then again, it didn't really matter. She had to fight her way out of this one and incapacitate him without killing him. She had a few questions for him.

The door knob twisted, and the door eased open. Come on, Tanya mentally coaxed. Kelsie backed into the kitchen, easing a knife out of the block on the counter. The barrel of a gun poked through the crack in the door. Tanya noticed the fingers in the doorway, and a small smile played on her face. She kicked the door shut.

Kelsie jumped and nearly dropped the knife as a gun fired and a man screamed in an eerie blend of pain and rage. The man must've shoved forward, because she saw Tanya stumble back and crash into the table, spilling the water. Her neighbor gave a startled cry, and Kelsie shrunk back, crouching slightly.

Tanya again found herself staring at the barrel of a gun, but this time, she felt no fear. She grabbed her fallen glass, covered Nathaniel's gun hand with her own, and rammed the bottom of the glass into his face. His grip on the gun loosened, and if not for her hold on him, he would've stumbled back slightly. Tanya grabbed the gun barrel, slipped the weapon out of his hand, and struck him in the temple with the butt of the pistol. Nathaniel's head slammed into the wall, and he rolled onto the floor, his limbs sprawled out to the four corners of the Earth. A trickle of blood flowed from a cut on his head, most likely where the pistol had struck him.

"Dude, you're like Xena or something," Kelsie said from the kitchen.

"Help me tie him up," Tanya said.

"What? Are you nuts?"

"He has questions to answer, and he's not going to do it of his own free will. Help me tie him up."

"If you say so." Kelsie put the knife on the counter and helped Tanya move the unconscious man.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Nathaniel blinked. He didn't remember much of what happened preceding his being knocked unconscious by his own daughter, but whatever that bitch did, she was going to pay. He tried to move his hands, to find they were tied. He tried to cry out, but he found that his mouth was gagged. He looked up, to find Tanya with one arm across her chest and his gun dangling from her free hand. "Looking for this?" she asked. He struggled against his bonds in a fit of rage, making the chair he was tied to inch closer to her. She backed away, and eventually, the chair tipped over, and he smacked his head against the coffee table. Tanya forcefully pulled his chair into its upright position.

After some time, Nathaniel seemed to recover himself. Tanya turned the gun on him and asked, "Promise not to scream?" A hard glare was his response. She cocked the gun. He nodded once, and she ripped the duct tape off his mouth.

"Bitch," he spat.

"Careful what you say. I'm not sure you want to spend more time unconscious, especially in your position."

"What do you want?"

"I want your symbol key."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"People who say that generally do know what the other person is talking about. Tell me where the symbol key is."

"Why the bloody hell would I do that?"

"Because I have your gun."

"Not like you can use it, anyway."

"Actually, it's not that complicated. All I do after I've cocked it, since you didn't have the safety on, is squeeze the trigger and blow your bloody brains out."

"You wouldn't."

"You're talking to the woman who stabbed you and tried to break your hand and then knocked you unconscious and tied you to a chair."

"Doesn't mean you'd kill a man."

"I stabbed you. Believe me, I'd kill you."

"Not until you get something out of me."

"True."

"So, are you going to let me go?"

"Mmm, I don't think so." She studied the gun for a moment. "You still have to answer my question."

"Will you release me then?"

"Not likely. Tell me where the key is."

"What do you have to coerce me besides the fact that I'm tied to a chair?" Tanya struck Nathaniel's knee with the butt of the pistol. He let out a cry and then glared up at her. "Fine," he growled through his teeth. "You know who Damien Howe is?"

"Yes."

"It's in his journal. He planned to burn it, but he disappeared before he got the chance."

"How do you know this?"

"It was his last entry."

"Where's the journal now?"

"Go to hell, bitch." She brought the gun down on his other knee cap. He hissed, his head bent back, and then he looked back at her. "Damn you."

"Tell me where the journal is."

"Why the bloody hell would I do that? I told you too much already."

"You're in no position to tell me that. What part do you want broken next? Femur, perhaps?"

"You wouldn't."

"I could always shoot you dead, but then, you wouldn't be able to tell me anything I wanted to know."

"You already know where the key is. How hard is it to find a bloody journal?"

"You'd be surprised. That's the only reason I'm keeping you conscious right now. Tell me where the bloody journal is." When he gave no response, she shot him in the thigh and then smashed the pistol into the wound. "Tell me where the journal is."

Nathaniel panted, shook his head, and stared up at her, fire in his eyes. Sweat drippped down his face. He took a deep, shaky breath and asked, "Where does a man of means hide his books?"

"Private library," Tanya said. "But...you wouldn't leave something this important at home. None of us would. It's simply not in the Howe DNA. You took it with you, to store in the warehouse where you're headquartered." A smile danced on her lips. "You sly bastard." She pistol-whipped him twice, to ensure his lapse into unconsciousness, and then she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

NTNT

"Hello?" Sadusky said into his cell.

"It's Tanya. Put Ian on."

"Alright." He handed the phone to Ian, in the back seat.

"I take it this is the midget," Ian said.

"Save it. I've got something out of Nathaniel."

"Really? How?"

"He's tied to a chair in my neighbor's appartment, and it took a lot of doing, but we'll get to that later. The point is, I know where to look and what to look for. Now pay attention."

NTNT

Tanya hung up after she gave Ian directions and fired a quick text message to Powell: 'found the key. you don't have to worry about it.' He responded with, 'hope you didn't book a flight.'

NTNT

Sadusky pulled over next to the curb half a block beyond the warehouse, and he and Ian walked down the sidewalk to the building in question, already in the process of being secured by other FBI agents. Sadusky unholstered his gun as an agent held up the tape for them. "Whatcha got?" Sadusky asked Hendricks.

"It's clear," Hendricks replied.

"Good. Mr. Howe, we're going in."

Ian took a deep breath and followed Sadusky into the half-open warehouse door.

He felt like he stepped into another world. The warehouse was empty save an area near the door that was furnished very much like a living room. Around this small area were scattered various crates of roughly the same size. "Well, what're we looking for?" Sadusky asked.

"One crate in particular," Ian said slowly, moving toward the closest of the boxes.

The door slammed shut. Sadusky whipped around, his gun aimed at what he hoped was an assailant's chest. Ian turned, peering into the dim light, and stepped toward Sadusky.

A man in a Jason mask stepped out of the shadows, a gun in one hand. "Sadusky, lower your weapon," Ian said.

"What are you, nuts?"

"Lower your weapon."

"He's going to kill us."

"It's time."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The man removed the mask and tossed it aside. "That's what I thought," Phil said.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Sadusky looked from Ian to Phil and back again. "What's he doing here?" he asked.

"I sent him," Ian said.

"He said make Nathaniel trust me, then when Ian showed back up and said it was time to stop, to stop and turn traitor," Phil added. "Didn't expect you, though."

"I guess right now I'm along for the ride," Sadusky replied, holstering his gun and taking a seat on the sofa. "Ian, you know this guy. I'll let you handle this."

"Thank you," Ian said. He walked around the sofa and back to the crates, quickly checking the labels on each of them until he found the one he was looking for, almost opposite the door. Nathaniel must've wanted to be able to go right to it once he got here, Ian thought. "Phil."

Phil walked over and with his gun helped Ian crack open the crate. Ian tossed the lid aside and pulled out the lone book, a relatively small leatherbound book tied with a cord of the same materal. "Nice lookin' book," Phil said.

"A journal. I'm pretty sure this is the one," Ian replied. He unwrapped the cord and turned to the last entry, somewhere near three-quarters of the way through the book, the top of which was marked by a stylized Three Legs. He nodded to himself, closed the book, and looked up at Sadusky, tapping the book against the heel of his palm. "I found what I'm looking for. You may proceed."

"What about you?" Sadusky asked.

"I'll find something." At Sadusky's worried look, he said, "Don't worry, I'll come back. And, you may want to document this book, if you want to save face."

NTNT

Tanya crossed the hall to her own apartment and set the gun on the coffee table along with her knife. Nathaniel was still unconscious, but as of now, he was virtually useless to her. She got what she wanted out of him, and Ian knew it. Now, what would she do with her hostage? That was the next big question.

She selected a single-serve meal from the freezer, popped it in the microwave, and turned back to the gun and her knife. Both weapons used to dispose of Nathaniel, and both weapons he could use against her. One he could use to escape, and there was no telling what he would do to her if he did.

Something slammed against another surface, echoing at least across the hall. In a rush, she grabbed both the knife and the gun, and in seconds, she was back in Kelsie's apartment.

Nathaniel had worked the chair over to the kitchen area and was now easing toward a fallen kitchen knife. "Stop right there," she said, aiming the gun. He refused to listen to her, grabbing the knife and working it toward one of his wrist restraints. She fired. He hissed through his teeth, but he didn't lose hold of the knife. Screw this, she thought, lowering the gun and slashing his arm with her knife. She shoved him onto his back, only to have him keep going and make her lose her footing. He finally sawed one of his hands free and set to work on the other. She shot toward him, and he broke off his escape attempt to punch her in the gut. "Damn you," she growled.

"Thank you." Nathaniel finished cutting himself free as Tanya pulled herself to her feet, and he smacked her on the back of her head. She stumbled forward and turned to face him. "You honestly think I'm going to let you get away with tying me up like that? You think you can humiliate me that way and then walk?"

"It doesn't matter to you what I think." She grabbed the gun. "Not anymore." She fired; the bullet struck him in the chest. He doubled over, and she ran out of the apartment, almost slamming into Ian.

"Tanya, are you alright?" he asked.

"We have to get out of here. I need your mansion keys and a lift at least ten miles upriver, past the city limits and out of view of anyone and everyone. Go as far as you need to."

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but he saw the gun and knife in her hands. "Are you keeping your knife?" She nodded. "Do you still need the journal?"

"Yes."

"Alright, let's get you out of here."

NTNT

Ian drove along every backroad he could think of, winding his way up the Potomac, until he found a site that matched his sister's specifications. He pulled onto the side of the road, and Tanya hopped out and chucked the gun as far as she could upstream, watching it _plink_ and disappear beneath the surface. When she returned to the passenger seat, he said, "There's a key in the azaleas that the police didn't confiscate."

"Got it. You're going to need to nix this car. My guess is it's stolen," Tanya replied.

"Will do." He handed her a leatherbound book. "Take this, and anything else you need from the apartment before they show up."

"And you?"

"I have to return to FBI custody. I can tell them you shot him in self-defense, I can be your legal counsel, anything you need, just so you can focus on this."

"I planned for you to double-check my work. And, my mail. The keys. If they or he..."

"Better them first."

"Ian..."

"Relax, Tanya. We'll figure this out."

"What if he comes back?"

Ian fell silent, staring resolutely out the windshield. She noticed the slight tightening of his fingers around the steering wheel. He sighed, purposefully closing his eyes and relaxing his grip on the wheel. He opened his eyes again. "Tanya, I promise, everything will be just fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am," Ian said with a conviction he didn't feel.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Riley couldn't hold off any longer. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Tanya's number. After a few rings, she answered. "Thank God. I thought you dropped off the face of the earth," he said.

"Riley, it's been two weeks," she replied flatly.

"But seriously, where've you been?"

"Somewhere in the crowd, if I leave here at all."

"And where is 'here'?"

"The last place you'll look."

"Okay, cryptic much. Care to be a little simpler?"

"I can't, and don't think of tracing this call. I'm about to hang up soon."

"What, you don't want to go to the cops? Is that it?"

"Yes. Almost time. Be careful when and how often you call me, and only tell your friends about my progress, when I tell you. I need to disappear, for all intents and purposes. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Fantastic. I'll be in touch." The line went dead, and Riley checked the call duration: two minutes and thirty seconds. Sly as a fox.

NTNT

Tanya lay her phone on the table and returned to the symbol key and her translation of the page, as it appeared on the image Ben had sent her via email. That translation would lead to another symbol key, but beyond that, she couldn't be sure how long it would be before she reached the alphabet key. But she could only do so much without the help of her notes.

Just worry about this one first, she told herself, and staying away from Nathaniel and his goons. Except Phil, the spy. Phil was safe to deal with, and proving to be a reliable contact, when he was in contact, which was sporadically and for brief amounts of time. His last message was a text, telling her Nathaniel had been stabilized and to be careful. She forwarded this message to Sadusky with the proviso that he tell Ian. Now it was all a matter of trusting Sadusky, and so far, he hadn't given her a reason not to. She then sent a message to Phil, indicating only that he should keep a close eye on Nathaniel and make sure nothing "untoward" happened.

Tanya turned her phone off and picked up her pencil.


End file.
